Past Imperfect

Past Imperfect – #113

The progressive crowd at this trendy Greenwich Village nightclub was thrilled when Millicent and Penelope dared to openly show their love in a public setting. In reality, there was no showing, there was only Millie’s brooch becoming ensnared in Penny’s décolletage as they both raced to get the drummer’s phone number. The drummer, who had no décolletage but wished that he did, cringed at the estrogen onrush and silently pleaded for his boyfriend to intervene. Said boyfriend, seated at the table on the left and just now realizing that something was amiss, chose not to intervene and cause a scene, because he wanted to keep his job at Macy’s and he really wasn’t all that fond of the drummer. The night ended in bitterness and accusations…

 

Previously shared in “Crusty Pie” and “Bonnywood Manor”. Slight changes made for this post. Overlooked details from the previous posts: What the hell is that creepy cartoon image on the back wall? And the copper cookware behind the multi-coveted drummer? And the IPad up in the corner? I clearly hit the fail-blog when it comes to a proper analysis of this photo. The shame is deep…

 

15 replies »

  1. The drummer, a very pale tweedy man in spectacles (see picture), was horrified that he might once again have to fend off advances of the unwanted kind because both Millicent and Penelope looked like the sort of deluded and aggressive women that usually got his mixed message. He sighed. Considered making a break for it while they were doing that weird tango. He quickly gave up the notion. Being wiry had its benefits in that he could always find a tux that fit ‘just right’ but sprinting had never been his best feature. He pulled out the little bottle of ‘Doctor Ed’s Soothe ‘Em and Snooze” pills. Albert (his boyfriend), who was mailroom clerk at Macy’s (second class) was just going to have to go without again. Thus the bitterness. The accusations came from the oddly featured woman seated next to Albert, who was regretting her third prune whip. Those booths never allowed for easy of exiting, particularly if you knew that keeping your legs crossed and your buns firmly clenched was necessary.

    Liked by 1 person

    • You are so keen with your observations. I actually had a second-act scribbled out with the Prune-Whip Gal, including a lovely quip concerning the sadness of unresolved libidos, but the transition was just too jarring and I couldn’t quite make it work. I like your reworking much better.

      In hindsight, I should have reused the original-size photo for this bit, instead of opting for a more Cinerama version, as the new size completely negates the sexual allure of Drummer Man. (Is that Nosferatu?) There are times when one should leave well enough alone.

      Like

    • I learned a long time ago to never confirm or deny any of my credentials. I only exist as an ethereal spirit who can help us all navigate the complexities of life and… oh, screw it, even I’M not buying this ludicrous comment… 😉

      Liked by 1 person

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